The Better Part of Valor
by Sierra Sutherwinds
Summary: Klink's guest sends Newkirk into a private little war. Will he ever get a chance to even the score? My participation on Hogan's Heroes Short-Story Speed-Writing Tournament.


**First line from:**_Catch Me If You Can_, by Frank Abagnale Jr. with Stan Redding  


**_The Better Part of Valor _**

"_A man's alter-ego is nothing more than his favorite image of himself_? Rubbish!" Newkirk protested from behind the curtain of the dressing room. "That little twit and I don't have anything in common. He hates me guts!"

"I just said that he looks at you as the British version of himself," Kinch said, sitting at the radio console.

"And he loves England," Carter agreed.

Newkirk came out, in a chauffeur uniform. "He dresses me like this just because deep inside, he is the one who wants to be the driver?"

"Don't be so grouchy. At least you have the chance to get in a car and drive out of this place for a while."

"Carter, I have an armed guard as a copilot all the time."

"What are you doing here?" Hogan came down the ladder. "Major Dietrich has everybody looking for you."

"I had to make some adjustments to the bleeding jacket." Newkirk looked in the mirror. "This is ridiculous. Why don't we just shoot the brat and get over with it?"

Hogan leaned on the wall. "We talked about this. A long as Major Dietrich is Klink's guest, you'll be his-"

"Butler," said Carter in an amusing tone.

"Butlers get paid, this is slavery," Newkirk protested. "I should be out there with you, spying and sabotaging, instead of playing babysitter to that spoiled brat."

"That spoiled brat is General Dietrich's son. We keep the son happy, the father will be happy too; Klink will gain points for this and we get time off our backs to catch up with our sabotaging work."

"I understand that but, still, why me? LeBeau is the cook, he would be more useful."

"It's your accent."

"Carter, you're not helping." Hogan picked up Newkirk's cap. "Newkirk, consider this one of your most daring missions. Now, go up there and _win just one for the Gipper_."

Newkirk almost snatched the cap from Hogan's hand. "One for the what?" Newkirk shook his head and walked to the ladder. "And for the record, he might love England but surely he hates Englishmen."

They watched him leave.

Carter sighed. "He's right about that, you know."

"Yes, I know." Hogan signed for Kinch and Carter to follow him. "We still have to plan tonight's outing."

* * *

Newkirk found LeBeau at the stove. The Frenchman was peeping through the window and did not notice Newkirk coming from behind. He turned around and chuckled. "Mon Dieu, quel look!"

"LeBeau, don't start now." Newkirk checked himself on the mirror. "Do I look all right?"

"Like Fantomas, très élégant." He put his fingers together and kissed them.

"Clown," mumbled Newkirk. "Is the brat out there already?"

"He sent his dogs to look for you. I told them you were in Klink's office."

Newkirk adjusted his gloves. "One for the Gipper."

"One for the what?"

"No idea, but sounds better than _today is a good day to die._" He put on his better smile and went out.

Two guards came to meet him. "No need to get violent, gentlemen." Newkirk raised his hands.

"Achtung!" said Major Hubert Dietrich. The young man came closer. His Luftwaffe uniform was immaculate from head to toe; enhanced with a riding crop that Klink had given him as a welcome present. He met Newkirk face to face, straightening up to look taller than he actually was. "And where were you, James? I have been looking for you since one hour ago."

Newkirk gnashed his teeth when he heard Dietrich's British accent. He had to force a smile. "I'd much appreciate it if you stopped calling me James, my name is Peter, remember, sir?"

"Are you so pretentious as to doubt my good memory?" He raised his voice and almost stood on tiptoe. He put his riding crop on Newkirk's shoulder. "I know what your real name is. Do you?"

Newkirk took a deep breath. "James, sir..."

"Louder! I can't hear you."

"James, sir!"

Dietrich softened his face with a smile. "Very well, then. We have lost too much time already. Bring the car, James."

While Dietrich waited for the car, he spotted LeBeau and other prisoners playing soccer in the yard. He walked through them and stopped the ball with his boot. "How come do have time to play when there is so much filth around the barracks?"

"We are entitled to one hour of exercise every day, sir," LeBeau said.

"Yes, it's in the Geneva Convention," said Carter, just joining the group. "May I have our ball back, sir?"

The 20 plus year-old man grinned and lifted his boot. Carter bent to pick up the ball and Dietrich stepped on his hand. "You will play later. Now, get broomsticks and sweep the dirt from here to Barrack 12. I want to come back to a clean Stalag. Sergeant Schultz!" he called, allowing Carter to get up. "You make sure these men do as I said. Failing to complete this task will cost them privileges for a week and a night in the cooler, understood?"

Schultz saluted. "Jawohl, Oberstleutnant Dietrich!" He did not make a move until the young man had gotten in the car and rode away.

Hogan joined his men outside. He coincided with Klink, rushing out just in time to wave goodbye to the car already heading for the gates.

"Very nice boy, isn't he? His father must be so proud of him."

Klink swirled in his heels. "Don't talk about his father. General Dietrich has been calling me every two hours to check on him," he sounded exhausted. He noticed a strange look in Hogan's eyes, and his tone became threatening. "If anything happens to the major, you and your men will suffer the consequences."

Hogan glanced at his men, sweeping and cleaning. "I think we already are." He walked towards Kinch who was dusting a bench outside Barrack 2.

"I suppose the major doesn't like soccer," Carter said sweeping the barrack entrance.

"I think he doesn't like other people having fun, period," said LeBeau. "So, what are our plans tonight? I'm in the mood for pissing off Boches."

"Mail train is passing tonight at 2000 hours," Kinch informed Hogan.

"Good, I'd like to collect the cargo before it gets to Berlin." Hogan glanced at his watch. "We have ten hours to prepare a derail."

"Explosives! Now we're talking," Carter's eyes glowed.

"What if the important stuff comes in a safe box? Newkirk is not available to open it," Kinch said.

"Certainment, l'enfant gâté keeps him busy all day long."

"I'm sure Newkirk will find the way to sneak out," Hogan shrugged.

"Yeah, the major has to sleep too." Carter leaned on his broomstick, watching all the ground they still have to cover. A light breeze blew some dirt back inside the barrack. "This is going to take us forever."

"Do as much as you can," Hogan said. "Meet me at the tunnels in two hours."

* * *

Newkirk opened the door quietly. He intended to keep it down but was startled to see Hogan, sitting at the table.

"Do you have any idea of how late it is, young man?" Hogan joked.

"You can't be serious," Newkirk collapsed on the bench. "That bloke is unflagging."

"It's the third time this week. What does he do until this hour?" Hogan went to the stove and poured soup in a mug.

Newkirk recognized LeBeau's signature and blessed him mentally. "We go to the market place and annoy sellers and buyers. Then, we spend the afternoon in the park, telling pedestrians what they are doing wrong. Finally, we go to the casino."

"The casino? Our Little Lord Fauntleroy is a gambler?" Hogan raised his eyebrows.

"The worst I've ever seen, actually."

"Have you played against him?"

"That's supposed to be a secret. POW aren't allowed in there," he grinned.

"Hence, the driver's uniform." Hogan nodded. "Do you win?"

"All the time. He doesn't mind, though," Newkirk shrugged. "I can't keep his money." He frowned, remembering something all of a sudden. "Didn't we have a job for tonight?"

"Yep, 5 hours ago."

"You didn't go?"

"Nope, for starters, Schultz didn't let the boys out of the hook until everything was pristine clean. Between that and your strolling in the park, we missed our train."

"I hope there was nothing really important in it."

"Well, we'll never know."

"Are you mad at me?" Newkirk frowned. "It's not my fault that the brat doesn't know how to tell time in his gold watch."

"I know, I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault." Hogan stretched. "I'm mad at that major for taking over my men and Klink for allowing it. Go to sleep, it's been a long day."

"Aren't you going to bed too?"

"In a moment. I want to check on the radio for any other job we might actually complete."

* * *

"London is sending the spare parts that the underground required for their radio. We have to pick them up tonight at 2200 hours."

"Thank you, Kinch. You and Carter take that."

"Provided Major Dietrich doesn't come up with one of his brilliant ideas."

Hogan glared at him. "Don't jinx it. Another mission gone wrong and they'll take us out of commission."

Kinch laughed, but inside he knew that the joke might come true. Hogan left and he went back to the radio.

* * *

The next morning, Newkirk overslept. As much as he rushed to be on time for his job as Major Dietrich's escort, he was 2 minutes late. The major was already outside Klink's office.

"It doesn't matter," Dietrich grinned. "Your friends will have an extra kilometer of potholes to fill in the main road."

Newkirk tightened his jaw. Since the major had arrived, two weeks ago, his popularity in the Stalag had dropped considerably. Every single mistake he made went in detriment of his friends. Complaining of the young man's arbitrariness would only lead to more punishment for the others.

"What did you say, _James_?

"Nothing, sir. I said nothing." He bit his inner cheek and lowered his head.

"Excellent. I knew you would concur with me."

Klink came out, happy to see that the major was still there. "Everything is well for the major?" he asked.

"Ah, Kommandant, the man I wanted to see. We need to talk about security. I'd like to give you some pointers."

"Certainly," Klink frowned but kept smiling. "I'll make an appointment-"

"No need, we have time," he shrugged. "Let's talk before I leave."

* * *

The day wore off slowly. Newkirk counted every second until they came back to the Stalag. He dropped out the major and ran to Barrack 2.

"Are they back already?" he gasped as soon as he stepped inside.

"They left a while ago," LeBeau said. "They won't be long now."

"Blimey!" He sat at the table.

Hogan came out of his office when he heard the voices. "Newkirk, you came back early."

"Not as much as I would've wanted to," he sighed.

"What are you talking about?"

"Major Dietrich convinced Klink to double patrols and watchdogs after nine o'clock."

Hogan glanced at his watch. "Carter and Kinch left before that. I think they will be okay."

"And how was your day, _James_? We finished filling holes in the road at 7pm," said LeBeau.

Newkirk smirked. "It was just a two-minute delay... I'll try to be punctual tomorrow, I promise."

Hogan shook his head. "It's not your fault, don't hold this against yourself." He looked at his watch again. "Where are they?"

Newkirk rubbed his neck. "I should've come earlier. I should've found a way to warn you about the double patrolling."

At that point, the trapdoor opened, making way for the missing heroes. Both men crawled to a seat, Carter in his bunk and Kinch at the table. For a moment, neither of them spoke a word.

Hogan gave them a second to compose themselves before starting the questioning. "Well?" he said finally.

Kinch reached in his pocket and put a small package on the table. "There was no problem with the delivery. The plane dropped it just as planned."

"The real adventure came on our way back," panted Carter. "Boy, how many dogs do we have in the Stalag?"

"And guards. I think they multiplied since this afternoon." Kinch turned to Newkirk. "Does your friend have anything to do with this?"

"He is not me friend," Newkirk jumped to his bunk, looking for a pack of cigarettes. "But, yes, he was talking with Klink about how to improve security... Some rubbish he learned at school or something. Klink was really impressed."

"You knew since this morning?"Carter asked. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I tried to, but the major didn't unleash me till half an hour ago. Dreadfully sorry."

Kinch shook his head tiredly. "Colonel, how are we going to deliver the spare parts to the underground? They can't come here and we can't meet them outside."

Hogan started pacing around; arms crossed over his chest. He shook his head and shrugged. "I'll have to sleep on this one. Kinch, radio the underground and tell them that we'll deliver the package soon."

Newkirk stretched and lied down. "Good luck, mates. Whatever you do, I'll be with you in spirit, while the rest of me will be watching Major Dietrich losing his inheritance at the casino..."

"I wish all of us could be at the casino rather than here," Carter said, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

Hogan stopped his strolling. "Carter, I could kiss you," he grinned. "Kinch, tell the underground to pick up the package at Hammelburg's casino. LeBeau, we need a waiter uniform for Carter and street clothes for me. I'll make the delivery in person. Newkirk will help you with those."

"Certainly, right after I get some sleep-"

"Now, _James_," Hogan pulled him down from his bunk. "We need to put everything together before dawn and your boss' cleaning Stalag obsession."

"Oh, Colonel, I want to go too. I've been sweeping and dusting all day long. I need some fresh air," LeBeau pleaded.

Hogan thought about that for a moment. "All right, let's make uniforms for two waiters. Kinch?"

"I know, I'll keep a light by the window," he sighed.

"Hey, what about the dogs? We can't go out on foot," Carter said.

"Good question. Kinch, call Snitzer. We'll need transportation to town."

"All right, but, what are you going to do with Major Dietrich? He will recognize you the minute he sees you at the casino," said Kinch.

"Newkirk, you will be in charge of keeping him too busy to notice who's serving the drinks."

Newkirk gave Hogan a tolerant smile. "Lovely, how do you suggest I do that, if it's not much to ask."

"I don't know. You're the magician, use your imagination." Hogan was still smiling when he went down the trapdoor.

* * *

After a day of painting and cleaning windows, everybody was ready for an evening at the casino. Newkirk was not sure he wanted his friends there. Major Dietrich enjoyed showing his power by humiliating the Englander in front of strangers. Having familiar faces in the crowd would be more than awkward.

"Deal the cards, James," Dietrich commanded. "Are you expecting someone? This is the third time you stare at the wall clock. That's quite peculiar."

"It is indeed, isn't it?" Newkirk smiled shyly. He glanced at the door as LeBeau walked to the counter. Carter entered next; and immediately grabbed a tray. Newkirk figured out that Hogan was about to step in. "So, " Newkirk shuffled and dealt two cards, trying to get Dietrich's attention, "how about this war? Do you think we'll get home before Christmas?"

"What's that rubbish about? Shut up and play," Dietrich picked up his cards and waited for the rest.

Hogan came in as if he owned the place. He located his men and proceeded to look for his far, it felt as a well-planned, well-executed mission, only that his contact was not there yet. Time was pressing but they were still in good shape. He was about to give a positive nod to Newkirk when Klink and another officer came in. LeBeau and Carter split and Hogan leaned on the bar, hiding his face in an abandoned mug of beer. Newkirk was also surprised, but since he was supposed to be there, he just smiled and waved.

Major Dietrich turned around and cursed. "What is he doing here?"

"Who, Klink?" asked Newkirk.

"No, dumm Kopf! My father!"

The man next to Klink was at least 2 inches taller than the kommandant and ten pounds heavier. His bushy eyebrows were already gray and his mouth seemed frozen in a grimace of disapproval. "Oh, so that's General Dietrich? He looks... imposing," said Newkirk.

"Oh, you have no idea." Suddenly, the major did not look so tough. As the General came closer, Dietrich sprung up and lowered his eyes. In a flash, Newkirk saw himself, years ago, with his own father.

"Major Dietrich," said Klink, cheerfully. "I was about to call off the night and there he was; your father! Isn't this-?"

"Why am I not surprised to find you here? Is it for this that I payed for your military career?" He did not wait for an answer. He looked at Newkirk and chuckled. "And who's this? Your bodyguard?"

"General Dietrich? Peter Newkirk, RAF Corporal. Nice to meet you." He smiled and stretched his hand toward him. "I'm currently your son's butler."

"An Englander! Of course, since you don't have the guts to fight them, this is the least you can do with them."

Carter shielded his face with the tray and went to Hogan. "Colonel!" he whispered. "What do we do now?"

"Don't panic," he whispered too. "I still have to deliver this thing. Keep it down, they haven't noticed us at all."

"But, what about Newkirk? That general looks mean." Carter stared at the group in the middle of the room.

"So far, Newkirk is doing a great job, keeping everybody busy."

"Colonel! We have to do something!" said LeBeau, coming from the other side.

"We are, and stop calling me Colonel!"

"Hey, Col- sir, I think that's our contact." Carter pointed at a middle-aged man entering through the backdoor.

"What are you playing? May we join you?" The general sat down. "Klink?"

"I don't think I should... I'm not a good player-"

"Nonsense,!" General Dietrich kicked the chair in front of him. "Sit down!"

"Shall we start anew?" Newkirk asked in a friendly tone.

"Don't bother, I don't play. We are at war, do you know?" The general turned to his son, staring at his cards. "Do you have a good hand? He's the good-for-nothing of the family," he told Newkirk. "I sent him to Klink's Stalag because there was no use for him on the front. A shame, just a shame."

Newkirk did not dare to look at the major now. For two days, this young man had been his tormentor, and yet, there was no pleasure on seeing him humiliated.

General Dietrich asked for beers for him and Klink. "What do you say, Klink. Is this man a good poker player?"

Klink smiled shyly. "I don't know... Poker is verboten in the Stalag-"

The general slammed his hand on the table. "Cut that out! Is he or isn't he a good player?"

"I understand that he's one of the best." Klink sank his nose in his drink.

"One of the best?" Newkirk narrowed his eyes.

"Good, you'll have some resistance," the general grinned at his son.

Hogan delivered the package, taking advantage of the distraction General Dietrich was creating. He nodded Carter and LeBeau to follow him outside, but his men did not move. He turned around to see that the underground man seemed more interested on what was happening at the poker table than leaving with the package. "I wanted a distraction, but this is ridiculous," Hogan whispered.

"Sorry, General, but I don't have any money to bet," Newkirk shrugged.

The general took a sip of beer and reached in his pants pocket. "I believe this will be enough," he said, putting a roll of bills on the table. "Let's get some chips."

Newkirk got dizzy at the sight of so much money. His good fortune had presented him with the opportunity to humiliate two German officers and get payed for it.

"Come on, let's go," Hogan pulled Carter's jacket.

"Wait, I want to see Newkirk kick some butts."

"Oui, me too," LeBeau sat at the bar to have a good view.

The first deal of cards made Major Dietrich grimace. He placed his bet and Newkirk called. Dietrich discarded three cards and picked up the new ones. He did not look happy.

"Ha! Losing already? I bet he's going to look great leading his men to the Russian Front, eh, Klink?" The colonel barely nodded. "He can visit his brother's grave on his way there."

Newkirk noticed how the young man squeezed his cards. Suddenly, winning did not look so much fun after all. He placed another bet and discarded two cards. Major Dietrich asked for new cards too. After a third round, Newkirk shook his head and folded. The major's lips quirked at the corners. Slowly, he claimed his little fortune.

General Dietrich gave Newkirk a disapproving glare and rushed out. Klink showed the Englishman his fist and ran after the general.

Major Dietrich straightened up. "Take me home, James."

Newkirk came out, avoiding Carter's and LeBeau's stares of disbelief. Hogan just shrugged and pushed his men out.

* * *

Newkirk slept all through the night and got up on time for roll call. He was so happy to get back in his old uniform that he did not mind the gossip behind his back. After Klink's speech, he went to sit on the bench outside Barrack 2. The general and his son were leaving in separate cars.

"Did he really beat you at poker? That's your game, Newkirk." Kinch sat next to him.

"Lucky strike."

"Newkirk?"

"All right, I felt sorry for the bloke... It's all about the alter ego... you know, someone that's your own image and all that rubbish... Last night, meeting his old man, the major reminded me a little of meself. I thought he needed a break."

Kinch chuckled. "Did he know that you cheated?"

Major Dietrich ordered the driver to stop in front of the bench. He rolled down the window and tossed a poker chip towards Newkirk. "Auf wiedersehen, Peter Newkirk."

Kinch and Newkirk watched him leave, before getting up and resuming their chores for the day.

**The end**


End file.
